Not All That We Imagined
by Malibu2011
Summary: When Christine kisses the dreaded Opera Ghost, her fate is sealed. Instead of releasing her, Erik takes Christine and runs. Will Erik find his happiness with her, or will he find himself in a completely new mess? Who is this new ballet rat, and how will she change everything?
1. An Initial Triumph

**Authors note: Thank you everyone who is currently reading this! This is my first time ever publishing, please if i make any mistakes or if there is anything i could improve on, do no hesitate to let me know! I truly hope that you will all enjoy my writing. I'm not sure yet if i want to continue with his idea so if you want me to keep writing, please tell me! Thank you again!**

Christine's lips slowly parted from the lips of the masked man. This man, her so called Angel of Music, the man that lied to her, the man that she hated with every I fiber of her being. He had pulled away from her desperate advance. Her eyes remained closed for what felt like an eternity, but when her eyelids finally fluttered open she knew it had only been a single fleeting moment. Her mahogany eyes searching, she looked him in the eyes. She looked for any human emotion.

Her gaze was met by something demonic. By his fierce anger. However, she searched harder, desperate to know that the man she had just agreed to marry was in fact capable of compassion. The harder she looked, the more she began to see. His face and body language were characterized by that of neutrality, however, those sea foam green eyes had betrayed him. In his eyes danced an intense whirlpool of emotions. She couldn't remember if she had ever seen anyone so frenzied. The man felt jealous, angry, hateful, and completely out of control. However, somewhere behind all of that Christine could detect a child-like excitement. This revelation made her shudder. _He was enjoying this game._

In this moment of their story he was supposed to show her generosity. He was supposed to release her from his demands and let her go. Let her be happy. She shot a stolen glance to Raoul, the Vicomte De Chagny and her loving fiancé, who was still at the masked man's mercy. Still held against the portcullis by the same frayed rope the phantom had captured him with. Still with a noose around his neck that threatened to take the life from his body every time the masked man got too intense and gave it a hard jerk.

Her heart broke at what she saw. Raoul's expression was that of fear. Not for his life, but that he would never see Christine again. Christine blinked her tears away, refusing to cry in front of either of the two men. She had complied with the phantoms demands to keep him alive. However, Raoul did everything in his power to make it clear that he'd rather die than make her suffer through a marriage she did not want.

She was beginning to get lost in thought, and that's when she noticed the masked man in front of her shift to block her view with a low growl which seemed to emanate from deep inside his throat. She pried her eyes from the man she loved and looked at the monster before her. This man. Again his foamy eyes pierced her very soul. She was unsure if she shivered due to the gleam in his eyes, or if it was because she was knee deep in the ice cold waters of this secret underground lake.

He must have noticed her slight shake. "We must go, my love," the phantom said in a deep and seductive purr. His voice tried to tug her mind into a trance, however, the events that were currently transpiring were enough to keep her free from his grip.

She opened her mouth to defy him, to beg for mercy, but instead she only fell silent. a look of utter defeat consumed her expression. He had won and he knew it. Christine felt her throat tighten as his straight face conformed into the closest she had seen to a smile. Just then, the realization hit her. She would never be free again. _It was over. She belonged to him._

* * *

He grinned devilishly with triumph. Christine was his. The Vicomte De Chagny would never again see his beloved fiancé. He had finally gotten his revenge. He had finally won. It had been nearly six months since the night on the rooftop when what was left of his heart had been broken, and nearly five since he declared war on Christine and Raoul at the cemetery.

In one swift motion he had grabbed Christine by the arm and was pulling her back to the shore of his underground dwelling. Behind him he could hear the Vicomte making threats. The phantom knew that even if the boy escaped, he never stood a chance. Without skipping a beat, he grabbed the closest candle stick and stalked to a line of mirrors. He paused. For a moment he looked around at the room.

The candlelight cast warm light, but the cave was still dark and haunted. It smelled of dust and wax. With that, his heart softened. He knew that he had to leave everything behind. His compositions, his art, his sculptures and books. He knew he could never return. This made his soul ache, but nevertheless he hadn't a choice at this point. He had made his decision on stage and he was very well aware that this was one of the many potential consequences. That was when he had stepped past the point of no return.

However it didn't matter how much he had mentally prepared for his departure, he knew that he was leaving the only place he ever considered a true home. With one final glance around his underground kingdom, he turned to face one of the several mirrors that stood before him. Without releasing his prized Christine, his dominant arm lashed out with the candle stick and struck the first mirror, sending shards of glass down to the ground at his feet. He felt Christine cower at the loud sound. This didn't stop him. He moved to the second mirror.

After that came the third, the fourth, and so on until he reached the final mirror. The Persian clothe that draped over this one was not out of place here. The clothe was draped over several mirrors. He kept them covered so he would not have to remind himself of his fateful deformation. When he pulled the clothe back and struck the final mirror, the sound echoed through the lonely corridors. This time the sound was different. Instead of a solid backing, this mirror hid a tunnel behind its glass.

With Christine whimpering hateful words in his grasp, Erik slipped away into the darkness of the tunnel and allowed the clothe to fall back into place, concealing his secret passage from the fools that would enter his liar less than a week later. All of the broken glass would lead them to believe that behind the red fabric was only yet another broken mirror. Little did they know.


	2. An Introduction

**Author's Note: I do not own anything except for my OCs.**

 **Again, thank you for reading and please review! I know that my chapters are a little on the short side right now, but please bare with me as I try to get my sea legs!**

Masks danced to and fro as she walked into the foyer of the Opera Populaire. She had been there once before with her Papa when she was 8 years old. She couldn't remember much from those days, however, she swore that 6 years and one fire later, it was just as grand then as it was now. Before she could stop to admire the refurbished opera house, she was pulled into the torrent of bodies. The music rang out in her ears and she began dancing with the many men and women.

"Colette!" Monsieur Perrot snapped viciously.

Her mind snapped back to the present as she jumped slightly. Colette couldn't stop thinking about the opera house since she had heard the news. She still struggled with the idea that the same opera house she was supposed to be employed by only one month from now was burnt to a crisp.

"I'm sorry Monsieur," she muttered as she rose into En Pointe to stretch, before falling to the flat of her feet and resuming Croise Devant.

She met her tutor's eyes and gave him a sheepish smile as he gently scolded her.

"You know good and well that your parents don't pay me to let you daydream, you should be focused on your technique. You will never be Prima Ballerina at the Populaire if you continue to be so distracted from your study."

"I will never be Prima Ballerina regardless of my focus, the opera house is in ruins" she grumbled, struggling to keep the hint of sadness out of her voice.

Monsieur Perrot's eyes softened and he cast her a reassuring smile. "The Opera Populaire will be rebuilt child, I know this much. The two managers are selling it to an older man from Germany, and word has it that he plans to begin reconstruction within the year."

Colette sighed. Monsieur Perrot seemed so sure that she would be Prima Ballerina at the famous opera house, but she couldn't help but doubt herself. _I saw those girls dance once so long ago, I'll never be that good._ She pushed the thought away almost immediately as Perrot waved at her to resume her exercises.

* * *

After several hours of practicing technique, Monsieur Perrot left and Colette retired to her room so that she could get rested before dinner with her parents and a few guests. She put her pointe shoes away and stretched her muscles, trying to loosen some of her pent up energy. Pacing the floor, Colette let her mind wander. She loved her parents and her home in Rambouillet, however, she itched to leave. She wanted to go to Paris, or to Le Mans. Her Heart ached for a sense of freedom that she had never known before. The open position for a ballerina at the opera house had been her chance to leave, and to start her own life. _Now it's too late._ With this thought, she plopped down on her bed, running her hands down the soft navy blue silk sheets.

She looked around her large room. She understood how lucky she was to be in such a wealthy family. Her mother and father had a trading business that kept them well provided for. Her room was fit for the finest Parisian nobles, and even better. Sometimes, she thought, there seemed to be now limit to her parents wealth.

Yet these things weren't enough. She wanted to explore, to have an adventure. _Maybe I'll run away! I could go to the Ecole de Danse de l'Opera de Paris at the Salle Le Peletier Opera house. I could continue my ballet and maybe even move on the Populaire when it is reopened!_

Her scheming was interrupted by a servant knocking on her oak door. "Mademoiselle, dinnertime is approaching."

She sighed and pulled herself off of her bed and walked over to her vanity, using the mirror to fix her big black curls into a French braid that reached down to the small of her back. She then changed into her favorite turquoise dress, which sported a square neckline and a slimmer fit style. The peach embroidery on the neckline and bodice was subtle enough to make the dress casual, however, it gave her a sophisticated air.

She opened the door and headed down the rather grand staircase, arriving at the bottom of the steps just in time to see her father meeting their guests at the door.

"Ah, Comte Philippe, what a wondrous night! I do rather hope that your journey from Paris was without troubles!" The Comte smiled and nodded graciously in reply to her father.

"It was quite pleasant, thank you. I hope you do not mind, but I had a guest join me tonight. Please, meet Astor."

Behind Philippe stood a tall man of muscular build. His shoulders were wide and strong, and his face was set in a defiant look. His dark curls framed a pair of almost royal blue eyes. He must have been around 25.

* * *

After pleasantries were exchanged, the party made its way towards the dining room, where places were set and dinner was ready to be served. Her father sat at the head of the table, and her mother to his right. Colette opted for the seat farthest from the Comte, who sat directly across from her mother and to her father's left. Philippe had been a long time family friend of the Desrosiers, in fact, the whole De Chagny family was rather close to her own. Astor sat across from Colette, with his eyes trained forward on her own delicate figure. She couldn't help but to shift under his piercing gaze. He must of notice her uncomfortable gesture because the corners of his lips quirked into a hedonistic grin.

Astor finally broke eye contact when the Comte rose his voice and began speaking to her father and the servants brought dinner to the table. The two of them spoke of business matters all throughout dinner, however it wasn't until the matter of the opera house was mentioned that Colette began to listen.

"Yes, Raoul got himself into quite the mess with that Daae girl," The Comte began.

She recognized he name immediately. _That was the name of the ballerina I was to replace._

* * *

Dinner was finished, and the group retired to the library. Colette had excused herself and began to go back up the stairs. She could hardly believe all that she had learned today regarding the fire at the opera _. Who was this Phantom? Was he real? Did he really cut the chandelier down?_ She was so lost in thought that she hadn't noticed a shape moving through the darkness.

Her body jolted as a hand shot out of the shadows and roughly grabbed her waist, throwing her through her bedroom door and at her silk sheets. Before a note could leave her lips, a strong hand covered her mouth and silenced her cry for help.


End file.
